As Miranda sat musing about her parents she watched a woman saunter into the terminal. She was dressed to kill in a slinky black dress that showed off one too many assets, and every man instantly turned their heads to watch her. Even some women were shooting her an evil glare, jealous of the way she was dressed. The woman seemed oblivious though because she just walked over to a seat by the window and sat down, pulling out her phone, ignoring everyone. Miranda just rolled her eyes. The woman looked very high maintenance. From where she sat, Miranda could tell the woman's face was caked with makeup. Why was it women had to do that? Most women looked nice without it caked on. Miranda wondered if the woman had a sugar daddy. She looked like the type, and Miranda was usually a good judge of character.
A man approached the woman and said something to her, and she just waved him off, not even looking up from her phone. Miranda smirked, wondering what had been said. She was sure that the man had just been shot down though, especially from the look on his face as he walked away.
It was so entertaining, watching people. Her flight was called then, and the woman hopped to her feet, making sure she was the first in line. Of course, she would be flying first class, just like Miranda. Hopefully, Miranda wouldn't have to sit by her.
First-class boarded first of course, and as Miranda got in line behind a few other first-class passengers, the high maintenance woman stood at the front, waving her ticket at the agent. "I'm first class, hello, are you going to let me on?" The ticket agent tried not to roll her eyes. "I'm sorry ma'am, but you will have to wait."
"Why?" the woman sniveled. "I demand to get on first. I don't want to have others bump into me and get their lowliness on me."
The agent looked at her like she was insane. "Ma'am, I will have to ask you to step to the back of the line."
"But," the woman complained.
"If you do not, I will call security who will escort your slutty ass to the police department, do I make myself clear?"
The woman paled and stepped back amid the applause from everyone else.
"Good, now everyone but her in first-class can board."
Miranda smiled at the woman who took her ticket. "Thanks for that."
"She was driving me bonkers," the agent said.
"She was driving all of us bonkers," Miranda admitted.
The woman nodded and handed Miranda's ticket back over. "Have a good flight."
"I will, as long as that woman doesn't sit by me."
"I hear you," the agent grinned as Miranda headed down the jetway.
She was on a Boeing 747, a nice big plane, with plenty of space, for which she was grateful for. She sat down in the front and tucked her purse under her seat, her gun hidden inside it, hopefully, she wouldn't need it. She was hoping for an uneventful flight. Her flight wouldn't leave for a half-hour, so she closed her eyes, waiting for the others to board.
A few minutes later she heard someone clear their throat, and looked up to see a very handsome man looking down at her. "Mind if I sit here? It seems that my seat was taken by someone else," he admitted, nodding at a woman across the aisle. It was the same high maintenance woman, and she was glaring at Miranda. Miranda was okay with him sitting next to her. He stood over 6 feet, was nicely tanned, with light blonde hair and green eyes. He sat down beside her and introduced himself. "Hi, my name is Cole."
"Mandy," she replied, shaking his hand.
He sat back in his seat "So where are you headed?"
"San Francisco. For a vacation."
"Yeah? I'm headed there also, but not for vacation, I'm headed back home."
"Oh. That's good. You were here for work or vacation?"
"A bit of work," he shrugged.
"So, may I ask what you do for a living?" she asked him.
"I am a Detective there," he said quietly.
"Oh, I bet you are busy then."
"All the time."
"So what brought you to Georgetown?" she asked him.
"Following up on some leads. I was actually trying to find a detective that works in Georgetown but was never able to catch up with her. Her boss said she was out for a while on leave for some reason. He wouldn't tell me why, but I am sure she is probably on some other case or a vacation."
"Sorry, you didn't find her, is she a pretty good cop or something?" Miranda asked him.
"Yes, extremely. That is why I was trying to find her. I needed her help on a case."
"Excuse me sir, but you are in the wrong seat," the stewardess said, walking up to Cole then. She was smiling at him though and leaning down, so he could see the cleavage hanging out of her button-up shirt.
"My seat was taken, by her," he nodded at the snotty woman, as he ignored the stewardess's cleavage in his face.
The stewardess turned to look at the woman. "Ma'am, I am going to have to ask you to sit where you were assigned."
"I am not sitting by someone so ordinary," the woman sniffed, looking at Miranda.
Miranda scoffed. "Oh please, who made you a God. I wouldn't sit by you if you paid me too, I don't want your STD's rubbing off on me."
The woman gasped and Cole chuckled. The woman did look like she got around.
"What is the problem here?" a man asked, stepping up behind the stewardess.
The stewardess turned to see the airline guard.
"Oh, hey Tristan, this lady won't move to her assigned seat," she said, nodding at the woman.
"I am okay if this gentleman sits by me," Miranda said to the stewardess. "I really am. I don't want to sit by that woman after her comments before we boarded. Besides, she would probably only talk about how many men she slept with last week."
The woman gasped, and the others snickered. Cole raised an eyebrow at his seatmate. She had some spunk, and she was beautiful to boot. He didn't mind sitting by her, not at all.
The guard looked at Miranda and smiled. "Oh, hey Mandy, I have no problem if you want him to sit by you," he said, nodding at Cole. She was glad he had used her nickname. If he had used her full name, then her cover could be blown. She usually asked others that didn't work with her to call her by her nickname so she wouldn't blow her cover.
"Good, because he is much better looking anyway than the prostitute over there," Miranda said, making Tristan and the stewardess hide a smile.
The woman gasped. "I will have you know, I am not a prostitute."
"Could have fooled us," Cole chuckled.
Tristan then turned to the woman. "If you even so much as get up and move, you are off this plane, got it?"
She nodded, her eyes wide.
The guard then winked at Miranda. "What brings you on, Mandy? Off to save the world again?" he teased.
She shook her head, nodding towards Cole. He got the hint. He needed to keep his mouth shut.
"Save the world?" Cole asked, looking at the guard and at Miranda, wondering what was going on.
"I am a social worker," Miranda said, "I help take abused kids out of homes." That was usually her cover when she went undercover.
The guard smirked at her answer. "Well, I had better head to my seat so we can get out of here. So you on vacation or what?" he asked Miranda.
"Partly. I am working with a family while I am on vacation."
"No rest for the wicked," he chuckled.
"Very true, nice to see you, Tristan."
"You also," he grinned, "take care." He then headed away to sit at the front by the stewardess's seats.
Cole watched the exchange with interest. He was intrigued as to how the guard knew Mandy so well. She must fly a lot.
Miranda then looked at Cole. "Mind if I trade you places? Not a fan of sitting by the window."
"Sure," he said and stood up so they could switch. He then sat back down on the other side of her. "Not a fan of flying?"
"Just don't like looking out and seeing how high up we are," she admitted.
"You know, you could close the covering over the window," he teased her.
She smiled at him. "I know, but I'm okay sitting here if that's okay with you."
"I have no problem with it," he assured her.
The two stewardesses were soon showing everyone how to use the oxygen masks and the floatation devices and not too much later, the plane started to taxi down the runway, and soon they were in the air. Miranda closed her eyes as the familiar twinge pulled at her stomach.
Cole chuckled. "I don't like the taking off part either."
She opened her eyes and smiled at him. "It's like riding a Ferris Wheel. I'm not a huge fan of those either."
He laughed at that. "Yeah, me either. So, a vacation in San Fran, plus work? I bet it's tough to work with abused kids."
"It is, but it is rewarding also, especially when I can get the kids into decent homes. I hate seeing any of them abused."
"Were you raised in San Fran?" she then asked Cole.
"I was, are you originally from Colorado?"
"I am, born and raised."
"But you seem to travel a lot."
"How do you figure?"
"The guard, he was pretty familiar with you."
She blushed. "I do fly a lot," she admitted.
Cole wondered then if the two of them had a thing going on, and he suddenly felt a bit jealous for some reason. He shouldn't be. He had just met the woman, but she was beautiful, stunning actually, and even dressed casually in jeans and a blouse, she looked more high class than the lady across from them.
Miranda noticed how Cole was glaring at Tristan, and she wondered why. Tristan hadn't said anything to make him mad, so what was the look for?
Tristan suddenly stood and started to walk down the aisle. He looked worried. He glanced at Miranda and nodded. She frowned. Something was definitely up. She leaned down and put her purse onto her lap, pulling out her gun. Cole looked at her in surprise.
"How did you get away with a gun on board?" he hissed at her.
"You are carrying also," she nodded at him. She had noticed the bulge under his suit jacket.
"But I am an officer," he whispered.
"Don't worry, I have a permit," she said, and tucked the gun under her purse and sat back.
"Something is going on," Cole muttered.
"It is. Tristan looked worried."
Cole nodded. He had seen that also, but he wondered why Mandy had picked up on it, and why Tristan had nodded at her.
Miranda suddenly heard a slight pop, then several screams.
Cole was just about to hop up when two men headed to stand in front of the first-class passengers.
"Listen up everyone," one of them said. He was darker skinned with dark eyes and dark hair, and had a very heavy Middle Eastern accent.
"We are hijacking this plane." He pulled a gun out of his pants. How had these men gotten past security at the airport? And then she wondered what had happened to Tristan. More than likely the men had shot him because the pop had sounded like a gunshot.
"If you are wondering about the security guard, well, let's just say, he won't be helping you anytime soon," the man smirked.
The woman sitting across from Cole started to sob.
"No, I don't want to die, please, don't kill me."
"We won't kill anyone as long as you do what we say," the man replied. "I want everyone to give us their valuables, and any money you have and put them in this bag," he held up a pillowcase. Miranda wanted to laugh out loud at his choice of a loot bag, but she kept quiet, biding her time. Cole had reached into his jacket pocket and had his hand on his gun also.
"Don't anyone make any sudden moves, or we will shoot," and to prove his point, he shot the stewardess standing behind him in the arm. The force knocked her into the wall, and she slumped to the floor, unconscious.
Several passengers screamed, the woman across from Cole screaming the loudest. "No, no! I can't die!" she screamed in terror, again.
"Shut up!" the man yelled, pointing his gun at her, "or you are next."
The woman instantly shut up.
Miranda shook her head. That idiot was lucky that the bullet didn't hit a wall, or he would have killed them all when it tore a hole in the plane. Sometimes bad guys could be so stupid.
The man then looked at Cole and Miranda. "I want whatever you have in the purse, lady," he said.
She nodded. "Of course, but you do know that if you end up shooting someone and missing, that you will make the plane crash, right?"
He frowned. "I am not stupid. Why do you think I make sure that I hit them," he sneered. "Now hand over the purse."
"Sure thing bud," Miranda chuckled, and launched her purse at him. He ducked as did the other man, and as they were distracted, she shot them both in the kneecaps. Four rapid shots. The men hit the floor. The first-class passengers screamed.
She hopped up and then looked at Cole.
"Get these guys tied up, I need to see if there are any more of these losers," Miranda said to him.
"I should be doing that," he frowned. "I'm the cop, remember?"
"Fine, but don't get yourself killed."
He nodded and getting up, he headed to the back of the plane, as she knelt and tucked the terrorists' guns in her back pockets, and tied them up with their belts.
"It will be okay," Miranda told the first-class passengers. "We will make sure those men don't take this plane down."
They all nodded at her, looks of relief on their faces.
"We are going to bleed to death," one of the hijackers muttered in Iranian.
"No you won't you big baby," she replied in Iranian.
The men went pale when they realized she answered back in their native language.
She just winked at them, and then she stomped on their knees for good measure, making them both howl in pain.
The hijacker's walkie talkie crackled to life then. One of the men had dropped it on the floor after Miranda had shot him. "Zafar, what is happening," came a voice in Iranian.
Miranda took the man's walkie talkie and spoke in Iranian in what she hoped was a deep enough voice. "I just shot a passenger who would not obey me."
Cole was in the back of the plane, trying to subdue one of the hijackers. The hijacker had a gun to one of the passenger's head, and Cole was trying to talk him down when he heard a gunshot. He hoped that Mandy was okay. She was. She had shot one of the men in the butt when he went to grab Miranda's foot, trying to trip her. He howled in pain, and the passengers snickered.
The hijacker who was holding the passenger hostage talked into his radio to see what was going on. That was all the distraction Cole needed. He shot the man in the knees, just like Miranda had done, and the man fell to the floor in agony. The passenger sobbed in relief.
"Don't worry, I am a cop," he assured the other passengers as he tied up the man.
He heard a voice over the radio again, but he couldn't understand a word of it. One of them sounded female, but a deep female voice. He wondered how many hijackers were on board.
Up front, Miranda was headed to the cockpit. One of the hijackers, apparently the leader was threatening the pilots to turn the plane around. She had heard the conversation since they had left the radio channel open. She frowned. How was she going to get them, without them shooting the pilots?
She would just have to take her chances that they wouldn't shoot first.
But she needed to take care of the stewardess first, and make sure that her prisoners didn't try anything.
She looked around at the first-class passengers. One of the men was watching her.
"You," she said, "are you competent enough to keep these men under control while I go rescue the pilots?"
He nodded. "I'm military, so yeah."
"Good, get up here," she said.
He nodded and hopped to his feet. He headed to her and she handed him one of the men's weapons. "If they move, shoot them. I know you won't miss, because we don't need a hole in the plane."
He nodded and grinned a mean smile. "I hate scum like this. I shot several while I was serving in Iraq."
"Good, then I know they are in good hands," Miranda smiled and headed to the stewardess. She was now sitting on her seat, holding her arm as tears streamed down her face.
"Where is your first aid kit?"
She pointed to a cabinet above her head.
Miranda grabbed the kit and pulled out a long bandage.
"I'm going to wrap your arm, okay?"
"Okay," she whispered. "Who are you?"
"Just a citizen who can't stand creeps like that," she said, nodding her head back at the hijackers.
Miranda expertly wound the bandage around the woman's arm and then handed her some Advil and water. "It will help, hopefully, until we can land."
She nodded and took the pills. "Thank you," she whispered.
Miranda smiled at her and then making sure she still had enough bullets, she pounded on the cockpit door. "Let me in, we are having problems with the passengers," she yelled in Iranian.
The door unlocked, and the man who opened the door looked at her in shock.
She didn't even let him raise his gun as she shot him. He slumped to the floor.
Two other men were holding the pilot and co-pilot hostage as she walked in. The man who had a hold on the pilot saw Miranda and let off a shot, hitting her arm.
She cussed. "Stupid idiot, are you trying to crash this plane?"
He frowned and put the gun to the pilot's head again. "What are you doing here, where are my men?" he asked in Iranian.
She glared at the man, ignoring the pain in her arm. She had been hurt worse before.
"They are dead," she replied in Iranian.
The man frowned. "You lie."
"Nope. Why do you think I am here, with you, you are an idiot, you know that, right? You think you have control, but guess what, there are several of us on board that are armed."
"Yeah right," he sneered. "If you were, it wouldn't have been so easy to shoot the guard."
"Where is he?"
"In the bathroom, dead," the man replied.
"Well, just for that, I might have to hurt your wingman," Miranda replied, and shot the co-pilot's captor in the leg, making him collapse. She then kicked his gun away and pointed her gun at the main hijacker.
"Now listen here, scum, you are going to let the pilot go."
"No, he is my ticket to freedom."
"Nope, he is your ticket to die," I replied.
The pilot was nervous, he looked like he was about to faint.
Miranda kept my eye on him and his captor but talked to the co-pilot.
"Call for help. Tell the tower we need to land as soon as possible. We have hijackers on board and several wounded."
The man nodded, picking up his radio.
The captor aimed his gun at the co-pilot. "Don't you dare."
That was all the distraction that Miranda needed. She aimed for the captor's knees and took him down too.
He fell to the floor, his gun clattering away. She leaned down and picked it up, looking at the co-pilot. "Now, sir, if you would call for help, and if you gentlemen will land at the nearest airport, we can get these terrorists taken off the plane, and some people patched up."
The man nodded and put in the call.
"May Day, May Day, we have a hostage situation on board. Several hijackers and several wounded. We need permission to land, and soon."
"10-4," came the response. "We will have all units available when you land."
The pilot looked at Miranda.
"Who are you?" he asked, as she tied up the two hijackers with their belts. She stomped on their legs for good measure, making them howl, and the pilot laughed, relieved that it was over.
"Just an ordinary lady, who cares for her country and the people on this plane," Miranda replied.
"You have been shot, though," the co-pilot said.
"I know, and I will go get a bandage, but I need to make sure everyone is okay first," she then picked up the men by their legs and dragged them, one by one out to dump them next to their co-conspirators.
The passengers cheered when they saw Miranda walk out with the men, including the dead one.
Cole was walking up the aisle when he saw Miranda dragging the men and dumping them into a pile with the others. He shook his head. How had she done it? He then noticed she was bleeding, and pretty heavily. He frowned and hurried to her.
"You were shot," he accused, as she tucked her gun away in her purse.
"I know, but I will live. I need to go and check on Tristan. One of the men said he shot him and left him in the bathroom."
"I will go and check," Cole said and walked away, "see if you can find a bandage for your arm, and I will be back to help you."
She nodded and after looking through the first aid kit, she found another one.
A couple of minutes later Cole returned. Miranda was sitting back in her seat, her eyes closed. She opened them as he walked up to her. He shook his head. "He is dead, I am sorry."
She sighed. "I wondered. The hijacker did say something about that."
"You were friends?"
She shrugged. "I suppose we were."
He sat down by Miranda, seeing that she had a bandage on her lap, he pushed her sleeve up and wound the bandage around her arm. "It looks like the bullet went through your arm. You will probably need surgery," he frowned.
"I'll be okay, as long as the bullet came out," she said.
"It did, it was a clean shot."
"That's good," she sighed, her face pale. He was worried about her, but she didn't make a sound even though she was in pain. He wondered if she was in shock.
"I'm going to go and check on the stewardess," Cole said. "You take it easy."
Miranda nodded as he got up.
The stewardess looked at him, her face pale, as he approached her.
"You will be okay," he assured her.
"I know," she whispered, "thanks to your friend."
He nodded, seeing that her arm had been expertly bandaged and wondered what else Mandy could do. She just kept on amazing him.